


Oysters

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part way through, I realized I'd fallen back into old patterns and had been approaching this like a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oysters

## Oysters

#### by Aouda Fogg

  
The boys do not belong to me, nor am I making any money from telling their stories.   
Many thanks to my nameless but highly appreciated beta, who always finds the time to read my stuff. Thanks, lady. And many, many thanks for the fabulous Viginia Sky, who this story was orginally for. She made Return to Cascade even more fun for me.   
Ok, so, this is one of my food fics. They aren't part of a series, but it does seem to be a theme that keeps finding its way into my stories. <wg> Hope you enjoy.  


* * *

Part way through, I realized I'd fallen back into old patterns and had been approaching this like a mission. I'd done research/recon, developed strategies, laid in supplies, considered -- and developed ways to solve -- potential problems. At least I didn't need bullets or weaponry of any kind for this . . . mission. Heh. Yeah, that's one word for it. And besides, if Blair could use his trusty Scientific Method on our cases, I figured this wasn't completely bizarre. Probably. 

On a positive note, I had learned that pomegranates were featured in the Kama Sutra and that walnuts had been thrown at Roman weddings because of their supposed properties. Those would be fun facts to use to dazzle Blair with my vast but subtle intelligence. 

I know I've been driving him crazy the last couple of days -- I've been distracted and kind of distant. Not so distant that I had any problem with him sliding his hand into my sweats last night when he decided I'd spent enough time staring into space, but still, I know my decision to drive in solo this morning concerned him. So did me taking the afternoon off to run "errands." 

Well, tonight all would be revealed. 

I had everything ready when I heard his car putt up the street. Greeting him at the door wearing my apron and bearing glasses of wine was clearly not what he was expecting. I watched him ease the confused frown off his face as he slipped his coat off and took a sip of his wine. Actually, I could almost see the gears grinding as he contained himself and decided to let me tell him what was going on in my own time. Got to admit, having him kiss me, eyes bright with curiosity, and not ask me any questions made me fall in love with him all over again. Which was a very good thing. 

I kissed him back and told him dinner was about ready if he wanted to change quickly. He took me up on it and, heading for the stairs, he let one question slip out. "What is that terrific smell?" 

"Dessert." 

He rolled his eyes at me over his shoulder. "Well, yeah, I was kind of figuring since it smells of chocolate . . ." 

He trailed off expectantly, clearly expecting me to fill in the blanks. I didn't. "See, Chief, it's deductions like that that let me tell people they're wrong when they think you're too short to be a detective." 

I got a double flip off, which was pretty impressive considering he was taking his shirt off and holding the wine glass. But then, Blair is nothing if not impressive. 

And I was nervous. I wasn't this nervous the last time I did this. Maybe that should've been a clue to me. I distracted myself from going insane from going over everything again in my head. Then I went to the fridge and got out the tray of oysters on the half shell. 

Sliding them on the table as I heard him pound down the stairs, I whipped off the Saran with a flourish. "Shit!" 

My exclamation startled him and he was by my side in an instant, scanning my hands anxiously. "What, did you hurt yourself? Cut yourself on a shell or something?" 

"No." I took another hesitant sniff. Yep, no doubt about it. "The oysters are bad; we can't eat these, damnit!" I'd planned these as a fancy start to dinner. What the hell!? They'd been just fine when I'd picked them up at the market. I slid all of them into the trash, refusing to take it as some sort of omen. I'm a cop; I don't believe in omens. 

Spirit animals are totally different than omens. 

I told myself this set-back wasn't a large problem -- I still had the shrimp, after all. 

"Oh, man, that's a real shame, Jim. But nice job on the food safety, babe." He patted me on the back, but he could tell I was still pissed. I knew that because he pulled out a story. "Hey, I ever tell you about the time I had Rocky Mountain oysters? Oh, man, you are not going to believe this--" 

Happily, his story, which somehow contained the "oysters," a John Deere tractor, a guy named Bubba, and a Foreign Legion hall, set the tone for the meal. We didn't talk about anything heavy; he told a couple of more stories to make me laugh. We talked about where to go on our next vacation and what we should get Stephen and his wife since she was due in a couple months. 

We lingered, sipping our wine; the whole meal was everything I could have hoped for. We both enjoyed feeding each other pieces of fruit -- peaches, strawberries, plums, figs -- dipped in honey. And few things in the world could feel as good as Blair sucking a shrimp from my fingers. He loved the small medallions of beef I'd stuffed with spinach, feta, and pine nuts. He still didn't ask any questions about what I was up to; he just let the evening slide along smoothly, the two of us encapsulated in our own little world of sensual delights. 

Finally, after sliding the last shrimp past his lips, I stepped to the oven to take out the final touch, dessert: a double chocolate souffl. I slid it carefully in front of him, outrageously proud that I'd not only produced his favorite dessert, but that it was puffy, light, and _just_ spilling out over the edges of the dish. Perfect souffl shape, if I do say so myself. Alton Brown would be so proud. 

My self-congratulations came to a bitter end a moment later. The fucking thing deflated like a perp finding out we had concrete evidence to contradict the line of crap he'd been feeding us. 

"Well, shit." I deflated into my chair and stared glumly at the flat, chocolate pancake in the bottom of the dish. 

When I finally looked over at Blair, I could tell he was caught somewhere between wanting to comfort me and wanting to laugh. I watched his eyes dance and realized that as long as I could have him, I didn't care how much he laughed at me. 

"Hey, Jim? You know what the greatest thing about a souffl is?" 

"It makes a really nice hissing sound as it deflates?" 

"That must be one of those Sentinel-level noises. Nah, the best thing is that it tastes good no matter how tall or flat it is." 

"Sorry about that. I wanted it to be perfect." 

"Jim, at the risk of needing to put on hip-waders, any meal where you and I get to eat together, to just be, to enjoy each other like this _is_ perfect." Then he leaned over and kissed me. I kissed back, lingering over it, loving the taste of honey underlying the taste of Blair. 

When he pulled away, he held my gaze. "So, uh, you wanna tell me what's going on?" 

"What makes you think something is going on?" 

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that except for maybe the feta, everything you fixed for me tonight, and then proceeded to feed me, is supposed to be an aphrodisiac?" 

"Busted." 

"Uh, huh. You trying to seduce me, Mr. Ellison?" 

"Is it working?" 

"Oh, yeah. But then, for you, babe, I'm easy." 

I grabbed his hand. "That's good, because I have a question for you." 

"How is it that I'm so incredible in bed?" 

I had to laugh at that. "Nope, that I don't question, I just accept thankfully." 

"Aw, how sweet! Wanna go up and do some accepting right now?" 

"Could you just let me do this?" 

"Do what?" 

"For God's sake, Blair." 

He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. I suddenly realized he was nervous about whatever I was up to! That knocked my nerves right down and let me say what I'd been leading up to all night -- and for the last five years. "You know I love you." 

"Yes." His emphatic nod made my heart swell. "And I love you." 

"Good, because I want to spend the rest of my life with you, knowing you're mine, and I'm yours. Will you marry me?" 

It had happened only a handful of times in the years I had known him, but I had managed to render Blair completely silent. I waited. 

It didn't take long for him to find words. 

"You want to marry me?" His voice squeaked just a bit. 

"Yes. I mean, if you say yes, I consider us married tonight, but if you want to go to Canada or Hawaii or somewhere and do it officially, or have some kind of ceremony, that's fine, too." 

"Wow." He tightened his hand around mine. 

I waited both in doubt and not. And then I realized I'd forgotten the other part. What an idiot. Sticking my hand in my pocket, I pulled out two matching boxes. "Sorry, I kind of messed this up. Should've given this to you first. Considering our jobs, matching rings just didn't seem like a good idea, you know?" 

He nodded. 

"So I got you this." I handed him the larger of the two boxes; it contained a small, gold nipple ring set with three bright sapphires. 

"It's beautiful." 

"And this is for me." I opened the other box so he could see what it contained: a small sapphire stud for the hole that wasn't quite closed up in my ear. 

"They match." 

"Yep. Just like us." 

"That we do." He held my gaze and unbuttoned his shirt. "Put it in for me." 

Happiness burst inside me so brightly that my hands were shaking slightly as I fumbled to get the thing out of the box. He had to help me get his old nipple ring out, but I managed to put mine in without any help. Then I kissed his nipple lightly, pulling away with a darting lick of my tongue. He gasped. 

He reached for the other box; the next instant, my whole body was focused on his warm fingers sliding the stud into my ear. It stung for just a moment, but since I suddenly had a lap full of Blair, and the feel of his mouth on my earlobe, I didn't really care. 

"So, I guess this is a yes." 

He shivered since I whispered the words against his neck. 

"Oh, yeah, James Ellison; you're stuck with me now." 

"Suits me, Chief, suits me." 

"So, Jim, husband, mine," he said a while later. Both of us were more than breathless, and Blair was sporting a nice, dark hickey right above his nipple that made the blue of the sapphires seem even brighter in comparison. "It seems that even without the oysters I'm feeling like I want to feel you come under me so hard you're feeling it tomorrow." 

"Okay." 

He laughed against me, and I reveled in the feeling. He was truly mine now, and I was his. 

We ate the flat souffl much later that night. And he was right about it tasting good. But, then, he usually is. 

* * *

End Oysters by Aouda Fogg: aoudafogg@yahoo.com  
Author and story notes above.

  
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